“A lad of all work,” Olympia hastily interrupted. “Aye, I understand.”
All too well, she thought. It was not just his family that Brant was paying little heed to. There was obviously trouble brewing within his own household. Since she had met him shortly after her niece Penelope had met his friend Ashton, she had noticed his slow descent into drink and debauchery each time she had seen him since, although those meetings had all been short and few, the awkward time when he had helped her into the carriage being the most memorable. She had the feeling the man had reached the point where he now only cared about his drink being close at hand and a woman in his bed. Olympia prayed she would be able to pull him out of that dark hole. The more she thought on young Agatha being forced to marry Minden, the more she needed to save the girl.
“Lead on then, Thomas,” Olympia said.
“This way, m’lady.”
Following the boy, Olympia decided it could not hurt to gather a little information about his lordship and how matters stood at Fieldgate. “The butler is not completely loyal to Lord Fieldgate, is he?”
“No, m’lady. He gets paid by that old besom to spy on his lordship. Aye, and does it while taking money from his lordship to work for him. You be the one what’s been trying to get a message to his lordship?”
“I have been, aye, although his young sister has tried as well. The butler took the messages, did he?”
“Aye, he did. Hope you told no secrets in them. They will be secrets no more.”
“I was most careful in all I said.”
“Clever.”
“I like to think so. I just wish I could be certain his lordship’s young sister was as careful because I suspect all that was said was then reported back to the, er, old besom.”
“It was. This here is the library,” the boy said as he stopped before a pair of high doors. “His lordship be alone but not feeling too sharp, if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I have many a male relative.” She exchanged a brief grin with Thomas. “Could you fetch me some very strong tea? Perhaps some food that is filling but will be gentle on the stomach? ’Tis not just the head which is tender after a bout of drinking.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
The boy hurried away and Olympia faced the doors to the library. They were very impressive doors, thick oak and adorned with carvings of ancient scholars. The Mallams had obviously been very wealthy once upon a time. She knew Brant successfully invested his money along with Ashton but had to wonder how much of that gain he now wasted in drink, whoring, and gambling. Did the man not see that he was rapidly falling into the same trap his forbearers had?
Shaking that thought away, she entered the room. Requesting permission to enter would have been the polite and well-bred thing to do, but she was not feeling particularly polite at the moment. She also had no wish to be refused entrance and be put into the position of yelling through a closed door trying to convince the man to speak to her.
The Earl of Fieldgate was sprawled on a settee, his eyes closed. The lines on his handsome face were clearer and deeper than they had been before, a result of his increasing dissipation. As Olympia moved closer to the man she caught the faint, sour scent of liquor. Since she could see no sign of spilled liquor or forgotten drinks close at hand, and the earl looked clean in both body and dress, she suspected the smell was a result of a night of heavy drinking. Her father had often smelled that way, as if all the drink he had consumed was leeching out of his body through his skin. Brant Mallam was in a sad state indeed, she decided.
When she reached the foot of the settee, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her. Olympia nearly sighed aloud for his fine, dark gray eyes, the one feature she had always sharply recalled about the man, were cloudy with fatigue and the whites of his eyes were well veined with red. He scowled at her for a moment and then hastily, and clumsily, got to his feet.
“What are you doing here, m’lady?” he asked.
“Sit down, Fieldgate, before you fall down,” Olympia said, resisting the urge to reach out, grab his arm, and steady him as he swayed before her. “Please. Sit. I have no wish to try and catch you when you fall, as you most certainly shall in but a moment or two.”